


Night of the Wolf

by Karracaz



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, Star Trek: TOS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karracaz/pseuds/Karracaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock decides to visit a Vulcan science team on Hiemal which includes Saavik and her bond mate Xon after communication is lost...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime after Search for Spock. This was a story with the same title that appeared in a printed 'zine long ago featuring Spock and an original character called Keetah, which I'm in the process of converting to Spock and Saavik. A version of that original story can be found on fanfiction.net under the title Night of the Eagle by FromthelandofOz. 
> 
> http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2655034/Fromthelandofoz

 It is understood that no attempt is made to supersede any rights held  by Paramount/Viacom, Bad Robot or any other holders of copyright. We do this  for fun and not for profit.

o0o

 

Chapter 1:

 

  Xon heard it first. Bent over the monitoring equipment, his phenomenal Vulcan hearing picked up the faint vibrations and he stopped working, head tilted slightly to one side as he listened intently.

Absorbed in her own procedures, Saavik failed to notice his abrupt preoccupation until he actually rose from his boards and moved unhurriedly over to the ventilation shaft. Dark eyes remote and unfocused, Xon concentrating on the almost imperceptible sound that filtered down through the muted howl of the drift wind that swept the surface above them.

"Xon-neh'thy. Hai' kha'et?" She queried, still absorbed in the tank she observed with its tiny occupant, the motionless body of a shewa. The Hiemalian snow mouse was lost in dark dreams of hibernation; a process that only now, after many months of precise study, had started to release its secrets to them. When he did not immediately answer, Saavik raised her eyes from contemplation of the tiny rodent, roused by his continued silence.

Puzzled by the tense way he stood by the ventilation shaft she crossed the room to join him. "Xon? K'tmnera lahso nehou va'num?"

He raised a slim fingered hand to silence her. "Smoni, Saavik. Manah ulcha no'kwa. Shroy..."

Obediently, Saavik pushed back the hood of her thermo-lined silk tunic and placed her ear close to the vibrating metal of the ventilator. It was bitter cold against her skin but a few seconds was all she needed to identify the low rumble of sound. 

"An aircraft," She looked up into the enigmatic, proud face of her companion. "Could it be Senak returning?"

"Ni'irsh. It is not Senak." Xon's breath crackled as it met the sub-zero temperatures of the underground laboratory. 

Saavik inclined her head in agreement, concealing her perplexity behind the impassive mask that had taken years of training to achieve, but which had won her a measure of approval from the full blood Vulcans she now worked amongst. However, if it was not the leader of their expedition returning from his trip home, who could it be? In the heart of the desolate ice tundra that lay within the only habitable region on the planet, air traffic was never in abundance - even when the ferocious storms abated during the all too brief summer months. Apart from the occasional hunter willing to bet his life for a quick profit on illegally plundered furs, and their own supply vessel, this was the first time in over a year where they had received any contact from the galaxy outside. The equatorial zone, circumscribed by the violent storms that constantly bombarded the surface, had become Saavik's whole world - a world she shared only with her five remaining Vulcan companions.

"Could it be our routine Starship check? Are we not due a visit within the next three months?" She offered with some reluctance, drawing the hood back over the wild abundance of her hair. 

The harmony of mind she now enjoyed had been hard won and she wanted no invasion from outside disrupting the status quo, an intrusion that might conceivably shatter the tenuous camaraderie that had grown between herself and her teammates. "Or perhaps, T'pardat and Varuk take pity on us and arrive to relieve us early."

"Perhaps--- but I think not," Xon's voice remained steady though one eyebrow quirked upwards in reply to her attempt at gentle humour, a concept he found difficult to understand. "A starship would use its transporter system, more logical than risking a shuttle here. Nor can it be one of our own people from the main base. Can thee not hear, Saavik? This is a large vessel, powerful - and it has been circling for some time now---."

 "Searching for our location?" She guessed, blood surging in her veins, a legacy from a childhood spent on Hellguard where anything strange or out of place meant danger." Thee dost believe this strange vessel means us harm."

 "To learn that we must venture to the surface," Xon's gaze remained level, dark eyes calm. 

"However, prudence suggests caution until the true facts are known." He conceded, after a pause for reflection, "We will need protective clothing. The drift wind grows severe."

  He crossed the chamber in a few quick strides, reaching for the outdoor gear that lay ready to hand. Effortlessly he climbed into the insulated trousers and thick parka, waiting as Saavik did likewise. Next, he drew on stout boots, thermal gloves, and waterproof mittens. Lastly, he picked up snow mask and goggles, essential to survive the numbing cold and biting winds that moaned all year round whatever the season. 

Base two, a prefabricated reinforced structure originally transported from Sigma Draconis, was deeply sunk into a great oval pit phasered out of the ice and rock, leaving only the topmost part of the dome above ground. The hibernation chambers, chiselled out of the bedrock, were underground, while sleeping quarters, storage rooms, transport hatch and the other facilities were grouped nearer the surface. It was a very austere life for the scientists and biologists working there for days at a time away from the comforts of main base. Even on a 'warm' day, the temperature seldom rose above twenty degrees below freezing and in the living quarters, it was never less than minus two or three degrees, bearable but only just for the heat loving Vulcans. Beyond the living area, a corridor led to a narrow flight of steep steps that eventually brought them out onto Hiemal's frozen, inhospitable surface. 

To leave the laboratories, they had to use an airlock. The door responded sluggishly as Xon worked the control, slipping his goggles down over his eyes as he struggled against the drift of powdered ice that blocked the entrance to the dome. Saavik followed, and although she was prepared for the deadly chill that would leach warm air from her lungs, the sudden rush of penetrating cold left her coughing violently and bent almost double against the force of the wind. Quickly, she fumbled the snow-mask and goggles into place, turning her back on the icy blasts that swirled the stinging ice-particles into her eyes. 

Instantly, above the mournful ululation of the ceaselessly blowing drift wind, she picked up another sound - the booming roar of engines that rose and fell as the wind gusted. Saavik turned full circle, trying to pinpoint the noise, but once again, Xon finally located the hidden craft.

 "There---" Xon's face, covered by the protective mask was close to her ear as he shouted above the howling gale. "Dost thee see it, Saavik?"

 She followed his pointing finger, screwing her eyes into slits against the driving ice-spicules that constantly spattered against her goggles. "I see it."

  They watched the craft approach through the flying ice-spray. It was only a quarter mile distant, no more than two hundred feet above the ground, and as it bore down upon them, its sleek lines became instantly recognisable. Saavik felt her mouth go dry and her heart stand still as she reached automatically for a weapon she did not carry. "Rihannsu---"

  Then there was no more time left as Xon caught her arm in a grip made cruel by urgency and swung her round toward the dome. "It is going to attack. Run, Saavik---the hibernation chamber will protect us--"

 The Rihannsu ship dipped as its sensors became aware of them. Two brilliant beams of high energy stabbed out into the perpetual twilight cutting into the impacted ice and sending up a cloud of boiling steam. Xon halted at the entrance to the dome and shepherded Saavik roughly inside as he glanced back at the deadly shape that was even then sweeping down on him. 

\----And fell, his back arching in agony as an actinic blue beam seared through clothes and flesh alike. Saavik reacted in a blur of motion, her old Starfleet training coming to her aid. Grabbing Xon by the arm she dragged him hurriedly back into the open hatchway as another burst of fire exploded only yards away. Without using the stairs, she slid down to the floor of the corridor on back and arms, ignoring the flare of pain as she shielded Xon from the continuous pounding outside. She was barely in time. A near burst of scorching energy hissed across the bubbling ice field and crushed the doorway like tissue paper. 

The Rihannsu were firing blindly, hoping to wipe them out in a barrage of indiscriminate flame. Xon, only half conscious, moaned deep in his throat and in the reflected light Saavik could see his face, dark eyes lidded by the nictitating membrane that now covered the pupil and hazed his vision. A thick trickle of blood oozed from the charred and blackened flesh that was all that remained of the left side of his body - an injury that, had he been human, would certainly have killed him instantly. Yet, he clung stubbornly to life with renowned Vulcan tenacity.

"Xon, my t'hy'la." Saavik whispered raggedly, the sound catching in her throat. 

Her betrothed stirred, eye-membrane withdrawing as he focused on her. "Go...leave me--."

He coughed with the effort needed to voice the words, and a bright trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his ruined mouth. Saavik, cradling him gently in her arms, restrained him as he struggled to get his hands beneath his body.  

"I will not." Saavik stated with stubborn determination.

  "Thee --- must. The Federation need --- to be warned. Duty ---to survive ---return to main base --- they will --- will --." His voice choked off as another explosion rocked the dome and the lights went off. 

Shadows surged crazily up and down the walls and Saavik realised that the floor was vibrating beneath them. They must have taken a direct hit.

"We cannot remain here." Lurching unsteadily upright, Saavik grasped Xon around the waist and urged him to his feet. "And I will not leave without thee, my t'hy'la."

  The slender, heavy, body shuddered as Xon gripped her arm in return, his face stricken, holding on until his knuckles turned white with the tightness of his grasping fingers.

  "Lean on me," she murmured unthinkingly and was startled when he pushed her away. Then she remembered how Xon prized his strength of will. Undoubtedly, she had challenged his self-respect and now he would insist on walking unaided, kept on his feet by m'hekteth; his personal honour.

"Go, Saavik. I need...thee...not." 

But weakness overcame his dignity as his strength dissolved and Saavik hurriedly encircled his waist again. His harsh breathing rattled in his shattered chest as he fought to keep upright. But a fresh shock sent them both sprawling and as Saavik scrambled to her knees one of the enforcing beams thumped down from the ceiling, crashing down about their heads. Something else slammed across her legs and she felt the unbearable pressure increase as the corridor collapsed in a welter of blasted debris. Darkness rolled across her mind and it was an effort to breathe as she called out to Xon. She called again, desperate for him to reply - but there was only silence.

 Much later, something else fell with a crash and Saavik held her breath, fearing that the Rihannsu had returned to search the destroyed base, but the only sound came from the wind - the long steady howl of a gale blowing across the ice fields. She knew that  she had only been unconscious for a short time but already the heavily gusting snow swirled in ghostly flurries through the shattered dome, coming to rest like tiny ice feathers on her uncovered cheeks.

The snow moved in whirls and it was hard to see clearly in the murky light. There seemed to be a beam across her legs. One end was propped on a pile of debris while the other supported a tangled mass of wreckage that hung form the roof of the corridor.

Carefully, Saavik felt the beam with her hands, testing it. If she could just turn her legs and feet sideways, she might just wriggle free. Straining gently, she heaved upwards and felt the beam move, but pressure on her ankles increased dramatically. Biting her lip, mouth dry with fear, she blindly levered at the beam, her cold fingers lacking the strength to grip the frozen metal. The accumulated debris creaked and settled but thankfully did not fall. Saavik shuddered, her lungs straining for air. Then panic lent her strength. Without thought, knowing only that she must escape, or die, she tensed her arms and managed to pull one foot clear. Again, the pain increased as the remaining foot took much of the weight. Saavik stifled the cry of agony that worked in her throat and once more heaved at the imprisoning beam. It shifted abruptly, slithering down the wall, releasing a cloud of choking dust - but at last, she was able to snatch herself away ---

  She lay there in the freezing corridor for some time, only intermittently conscious, before she made the effort to explore the injured ankle. It was swollen and bloody, but did not seem broken. Clawing herself up onto her knees she tried to pierce the sullen red glow that lit up the wreckage, her eyes searching for ----

"--- Xon--!" But he lay twisted and unmoving, his eyes open but unaware of the snow falling on his upturned face. Saavik put out a shaking hand, touched him lightly with one finger on the unmarred cheek trying not to see the rest. His flesh was cold, his chest still. He was lost and his katra with him. A soft keening sound escaped her for the double loss, yet inside a kind of confused rage grew, obscuring the pain and grief that had started to build within her, mutating it into something she had not felt since the age of ten.

  "They will pay for this. They will pay---" The words sang in her mind as old instincts she thought long dead demanded to be acknowledged. Reluctantly, she turned from Xon, somehow managing to get onto her feet, the world dipping and swaying as she stared up through the still falling snow, trying fruitlessly to glimpse the stars.

"There will be an accounting, Xon. I, Saavik d'Vel'nahr, Vulcan by choice, swear ashv'cezh on our enemies, the sundered Rihannsu."

  She clenched icy hands, feeling the wind whipping at her from all sides. Then, without another glance at the broken body, she turned aside from the man who she had accepted as life-mate, and started to pick a way through the rubble that filled the corridor.

o0o

 

A single shuttlecraft faced the Enterprise's huge bay doors when Kirk entered the hanger deck. Spock and McCoy, standing to one side, were waiting expectantly as he crossed over to them, footsteps echoing hollowly in the cavernous space.   

"All ready, Mr Spock?" Kirk asked, a lazy smile teasing the corners of his mouth as he confronted his Vulcan science officer.  

"Indeed, sir. There were a few alterations needed in the fuel system to extend the shuttle's range, but I believe Mr Scott has taken care of it quite adequately."

  "Uh, I'm glad to hear that."  McCoy shook his head doubtfully, "It still seems a crazy way to spend a vacation to me, Spock. There's a routine check due on Hiemal in another month or so. Can't this trip of yours wait until then?"

  "I have explained many times in the past, Doctor, that your ideas of rest and recuperation differ greatly from my own. The research team on Hiemal are on the verge of making some startling discoveries, and as I wish to extend my own knowledge of hibernation and aestivation, it would be most illogical to waste valuable time 'vacationing' elsewhere. Is that desire so incredible?"

"If you'd been completely human, Spock, I might have said yes, seeing how Starbase Seventeen is the first real Earth base we've been near in months! Any decent human being who passes on this one *would* be crazy, but in your case---." McCoy grinned sardonically as Spock's brow rose.

  "Why, thank you, Doctor McCoy," he said dryly. "I am pleased you can at last see the distinction. Perhaps we may have something in common after all."  

McCoy scowled, his blue eyes narrowing. "Now you have to be joking! Jim, I'll see you up on the bridge. Bye, Spock. Enjoy yourself."  

Kirk grinned with affection as he watched McCoy stride purposefully away. "You're certain this is what you want to do, Spock. There's still time to change your mind."

" I think not, sir." Spock replied without hesitation. "I was not trying to appease Doctor McCoy in any way. The experiments on Hiemal do interest me."  

" Of course," Kirk nodded, only half convinced. He studied his Science Officer, hazel eyes concerned. Spock appeared weary, more withdrawn than at any time Kirk had known him. "The research team is...Vulcan, isn't it? Do you know any of them, Spock?"  

" T'paijahne is a biophysicist of some repute, as is her bondmate Jhenek, although they are not widely known outside of Vulcan. Senak, the leader of the expedition, is a distant --- cousin."

  Uh-huh! Family! Kirk nodded, "You're concerned because of the radio silence the base is maintaining?"  

Spock's eyes became remote as they fixed on a point above and behind Kirk's head. "The climate on Hiemal is extremely unpredictable, sir. The storms have been known to disrupt transmissions in the past."  

"But you believe their --- lack of communication could be due to something less natural?" He was pushing and he knew it. Spock's face said quite definitely: private, no trespass. Do not pass GO. But Kirk hadn't risen to his present rank without knowing when and what  to disregard.   

Spock almost sighed, but he knew the signs. Kirk was working on what he called a hunch and would not give up the chase until he was satisfied that he had all the available data on the subject at hand.   

Reluctantly, he admitted, "There have been several sightings of what appeared to be a Romulan bird of prey in this quadrant, sir although I see no logic in Rihannsu interest. Apart from the science team and indigenous wildlife, Hiemal is quite barren. There are few minerals, no large deposits of base metals, very little trace elements ---"  

Kirk grinned as he held up a forestalling hand, "Uh ---I think I get the picture, Mr. Spock. Of course, the Klingons have been known to use Romulan ships - and they do have mining concessions in this vicinity of space, but if you think there's any chance..."

  "My --- anxiety has no basis in fact, sir. And to rush blindly into an unknown situation might only precipitate a state that, at this time, does not exist."  

"You might be right at that!" Kirk admitted. "Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. On the other hand, I still don't want you taking any chances. If there is trouble you have my standing order to get the hell out of there --- and at the double."  

Spock turned tranquil eyes upon him. "I shall endeavour to keep that in mind, sir."  

"I'm sure you will, Spock." He smiled, his voice wry, as he turned to inspect a red light that had begun to flash above them. "That's my signal to get out of here. Have a good journey, Spock. If the overhaul is completed on schedule, we should be seeing you in three weeks at the most."  

"Very good, sir." But he hesitated at the entrance to the shuttlecraft and looked back. Enjoy your own leave, sir. I believe Base Seventeen will be most efficacious - to the needs of a human."

  "So I've been reliably informed by Doctor McCoy!" Kirk grinned widely and with a wave of his hand left his science officer in the capable hands of the hangar deck flight crew. As soon as the airlock closed, an order rang out and the heavy hangar doors slowly began to swing open. The shuttlecraft taxied efficiently toward them and soared out into the emptiness of space ---

o0o

 

   Hiemal was the second in a solar system of six planets - the only one to support life as the sun dwindled and grew increasingly cold. As Spock brought the shuttlecraft into a gentle orbit, he saw a world wreathed in the swirling cloud patterns that could only mean that a storm wreaked havoc on the ground. He hesitated, frowning, as he settled back into the seat webbing and opened a channel to the surface. 

"Shuttlecraft Columbus to Hiemal Research Base One. Do you read me, Base One?"  

There was no reply to his call but considering the storm below him, Spock had not really expected one. He scanned the console before him with a critical eye, noting the fuel consumption: fifteen pounds psi, barely enough for another complete orbit. Again, he reached out and pushed down the switch on the communicator panel. 

"This is Spock s'kahri ansh'oine t'Sarek au T'phra. Come in Base One."

He switched to receive, waited, his eyes fixed on the communicator speaker grid. He had forty five minutes before his limited fuel ran out and he was drawn down to the storm lashed surface below; almost certain death. Yet, there was no answer - nothing but the hiss and crackle of static – the inane and meaningless music of space. 

 Forty minutes. Still nothing. Soon he would be over the horizon and out of range of the research base's transmitting equipment ---

  "Spock calling Hiemal Base One...Spock calling Base One ---" 

Thirty-five minutes. Spock took refuge behind an emotionless mask. Vulcan by birth and training, he would not admit the danger of his situation. 

He was aware that the shuttles orbit was decaying and if he did not take steps to avert it he would be drawn into the atmosphere --- and burn. 

Then it came, bursting through the static, a voice reaching out across the blackness of space.

  " --- Hiemal Research Base One --- calling orbiting craft --- please identify again."  

Spock let out a breath, his fingers quickly reaching for the communication console. "This is the shuttlecraft Columbus, piloted by science officer Spock of the U.S.S. Enterprise. I need land co-ordinates. Position critical. Can you supply?"  

There was a long silence before a different voice came over the air. 

"Received and understood, Columbus. Only accessible landing area is in equatorial region. Storm rapidly approaching --- must hurry." 

  The voiced faded, lost in crackling static. " --- that understood?"

  "Understood, Base One. I am coming down to land." 

Spock's long fingers were sure and swift as he exchanged the automatic pilot of the shuttle for manual control and began to guide the small craft down towards the surface. He ignored the view as Hiemal filled the scanners, concentrating on the controls in front of him, fighting the shuttle as it shuddered against his restraining hands. 

Then, abruptly, he was enveloped in the whirling icy clouds that blotted out the sky and the land below.  He spoke into the communicator once more. "Commander Spock to Base One, please transmit homing signal --- " 

But again, the speaker grid only roared with the slow rise and fall of static, the atmospheric disturbance that blanketed transmission and reception. It seemed as if he would have to rely on his own wits to reach the base. 

Quickly, he took the shuttle down until he almost skimmed across the frozen, featureless terrain of the snow-laden tundra, the small craft sending up a curtain of icy spray that spattered against the forward window like a hail of machine gun fire, cutting visibility even further. Spock stared out at the blinding whiteness, frowning in concentration, his keen eyes searching for landmarks.

Suddenly, a flashing telltale on the control panel, a warning that radiation from the short end of the spectrum had increased abruptly and was rapidly growing stronger, caught his attention. He glanced at his fuel gauge: fifteen minutes flying time left. Warning lights blossomed crimson before him as unexpectedly the radiation count passed the tolerance level and entered the lethal zone.

  Beneath the shuttlecraft a giant pit suddenly dropped away in the endless whiteness of the tundra, a hole filled with deadly black dust that was sending his sensors wild. 

Petrified smears pointed away from the destruction like knarled, blackened, fingers. Base One - or what was left of it. 

He knew then why he had needed so desperately to come to Hiemal. The research base, possibly most, if not all, of its personnel, had ceased to exist.   Spock's lean, impassive face went cold with reaction. Nothing could have remained alive through the holocaust that had been visited there... and he could think of no logical reason why such an act had been committed. 

Hiemal was useless for colonisation, neither did it hold any strategic position; there was nothing there that any intelligent being could conceivably want.   But as his mind deliberated on such senseless destruction, he was aware of his own danger – even before the grey shadow of another craft detached itself from the drifting clouds of snow and began to trail him. 

It was a Romulan craft, but one known to be used by the Klingons - and he had told them of the critical nature of his position. All they had to  do then was either blow him from the sky or wait until he was forced to land through lack of fuel. The shuttle itself was not armed, his own firepower nonexistent, so that he had little choice where his own strategy was concerned. 

However ignominious it appeared, logic told him that he must run if he was to live. While he still had fuel, he acknowledged, there was a chance - although a slim one.   

Spock hauled the nose of the Columbus round in a tight arc, increased his speed, and headed directly into the oncoming storm. It was an act of desperation, highly emotional, but still quite logical. Coolly, and with a skill he had almost forgotten he possessed, he began to zigzag, heading for higher ground where it might just be possible to lose the shadow that followed him so closely. He banked sharply, but it seemed he had been outguessed as two parallel lines of blue energy speared through the whirling snow. The pilot of the other craft did not mean him to reach the hills. 

Again, the disruptor beams lanced through the perpetual twilight and even without the sudden blaze of lighted telltales on his boards, the sickening jolt behind him, and the shuttle's sudden lack of response to his commands, told him he had been hit.  With all his strength, he fought the controls, but it was too late. The shuttlecraft plummeted down from the sky, blazing a heat trail across the low cloud cover, a fiery meteor, blackening rapidly as it plunged toward the ground. Pressure exploded against Spock's senses as the small craft careened into the drifting snow, ploughing through the wind impacted ice like a child's spinning top, until it stopped, the power nacelles crushed beyond recognition.... 

 

o0o


	2. Chapter 2

The sky lightened gradually in the east as Saavik came down the steep ridge track that led towards the land of little trees, the forest of stunted thorns and flexible whitewoods that bordered the least forgiving of Hiemal's vast territory – the place she named the barren grounds.

Since the attack, this harsh world had taught her much about survival she had forgotten - or never learned. Alone and captive there, she had found time in which to absorb those lessons well. Now, halted in the shadow of the thin cover, she lifted her head, savouring the snow-laden wind like a questing animal after quarry. Her eyes moved unhurriedly over the slippery track-way, reading the signs there with practiced ease. The imprints were still fresh, unmistakable despite the falling snow, informing her as clearly as if written what had passed that way. 

Senses honed to a fine sharpness, wholly alert to any danger, Saavik knelt, brushing the flying ice-spicules free of her goggles as she bent to get a closer view. The tracks were those of the shiokx, the caribou-like grazers that eked out a precarious existence, forming large herds as they paused in the more hospitable regions of Hiemal's bleak landscape before starting the long trek across the desolate grounds to the camp where they annually bore their young. Beyond the hoof impressions, also clearly etched in the whiteness, were many pad marks that might have been the prints of a huge feline. Saavik knew better. Wherever the grazers massed together, the lhur would also gather. Neither wolf or hunting cat, but a powerful blending of both, the native predator constantly stalked the herds; for in the intricate balance of life that existed in the desolate barrens, the shiokx was the primary source of food for many of the inhabitants - not least Saavik herself.

 

Footsteps deadened by the packed snow, she moved skilfully through the trees towards the better light that glimmered up ahead, until she came to the edge of the canyon that abruptly ended the trail. Crouching there, the lip of the precipitous slope only inches away, she gazed down on to the hunched, dappled backs of the grazers clustered within the protective canyon walls, eating what little the ground offered in the way of lichens, dwarf willow and the small purple mosses that hid beneath the snow.

Saavik watched in avid silence, fingers tightening on the stave of the whitewood khaiya she carried, the restlessness of the last hours forgotten for a time. There were four of the lhur below her, working the herd as if trained. She continued to watch eagerly as the dominant female, a huge silver-white beast, began a stampede, rushing in and out between the sharp hooves, nipping at an unprotected flank or hind leg, all the while driving the herd forward. 

As the spooked animals began to move, fleeing for the solid footing of the open tundra, another lhur rushed in, followed quickly by two younger animals. The sudden charge panicked the already nervous shiokx and they veered away --- but not soon enough. One fell as it lost its footing on the frozen surface and immediately the pack were upon it, tearing at throat and flank as the crippled beast struggled to rise. Doomed once down on the ground, within ten seconds the female leader’s massive jaws had broken the shiokx' neck. The herd, once its momentary fright ceased, coalesced again, bending long necks to the ground, the animals accepting as they must the ever present menace of the wolf-like lhur in their midst. 

From her perch on the ridge-top, Saavik watched in silence, desolation sharp as a knife thrust piercing her heart. Within minutes all that remained of the beast’s wild, swift beauty was a tattered pelt and a patch of gory snow. The bloody sight once more called to mind the debt she must pay - the ashv'cezh - revenge worse than death that she had sworn to uphold. Since the destruction of main base, she had thought of little else. Even in the winds low call, the yowl of the lhur, she could hear the cry for vengeance, knowing that her heart and mind would forever be captive until the death price was paid in full. Xon, her betrothed had died at the hands of the Rihannsu and so had Jhenek, with his mate T'paijahne, along with T'pardat, Varuk, and T'shansha, bondmate to Senak - annihilated along with their work - the tapes, notes, records, all that would have made their deaths worthwhile.

Restless again, ceding the hunt to the lhur for at least that day, she rose in one fluid movement, shaking off the snow that clung to the wet fur of her parka and thick trousers. She did not need meat, there was plenty already in the cave she had found - and to kill for the sake of it had never been her way – yet she could not forget the inner agitation which had drawn her from the safety of the cave to hunt the game trails, the nagging alarm that she could not ignore. Wearily, she stared at a horizon obscured by wind blown snow, trying to make sense of the menace that had summoned her out of warmth and safety into the face of an approaching storm. The danger definitely did not emanate from the lhur, for while the shiokx remained there was food for all - and she made sure not to trespass on the pack's territory. Nor did that unknown jeopardy scent the wind that blew from the rapidly expanding Rihannsu base.

Anxiety vibrated through her senses, and her nerves resonated with fear as she trudged back up the trail where she had hidden the power-sled rescued from the destroyed science facility. Her apprehension remained ambiguous; it hovered just at the edge of her mind. Something came out of the north - that was all she knew. 

The sled lay buried at the edge of the forest under a thin cover of powdery snow. Occupied in working the coated runners free, it was a moment before the eerie, jagged, saw-tooth sound of an engine reached her through the mournful keening of the wind. Freezing into stillness, her keen gaze searched the northern skies. The sound came again, the deep throb of powerful engines, heading towards her through the quasi-daylight. 

She bent quickly and again covered the sled, concealing the unnatural outline that would tell her enemies she still lived. The task swiftly completed, she dived into the lee of a snowdrift. Seconds later, to her disbelief, the unmistakeable wedge-shape of a Federation craft flew overhead. The vessel yawed and dipped, buffeted by harsh winds, fighting to stay aloft. Badly disabled, the juddering craft zigzagged beneath the lowering cloud cover as the craft’s pilot tried to reach safe ground.

On the tail of the first, a second craft swiftly appeared. Saavik's winged brows slanted in a frown, her chin set in a stubborn line as she recognised the interceptor. Mutely, she willed the Federation pilot to lift the damaged shuttle into the foothills where unpredictable and often treacherous updrafts might aid his escape. And almost as though her plea had reached its target, the damaged vessel turned, banked sharply into the wind, and limped with agonising slowness for the mountains. Its shadow veered also, climbing for altitude, jockeying for a more favourable position in which to fire again. The opportunity presented itself soon enough and Saavik's triumph turned to fear as twin beams of searing incandescent blue flame shot across the sky. The deadly rays struck the fleeing shuttle once, twice and a third time across the stern.

With scant thought for her own safety, Saavik leapt to her feet, trying to keep a bearing on the two craft as they disappeared beyond the first low slopes of the hills. She listened to the sound of battling engines. Then, abruptly, the saw-tooth roar cut off, dying into silence - which meant only one thing....

A jarring vibration of unbelievable force reached Saavik's booted feet through the frozen crust of surface ice, while an intense bellow tortured her sensitive hearing. For several seconds the sound boomed and echoed through the hill country. Ear pressed to the bitter terrain, she half heard, half felt the hissing scream of the fuselage as it splintered and ripped a way through the glacial frost. After that, a deeper silence fell, still and ominous, with only the keening threnody of the wind left to tell the story.

Again, Saavik burrowed into the heaped snow as the Rihannsu interceptor flashed by overhead and disappeared into the murky distance. The nearest place it could land with any safety was many miles to the west and Saavik did not expect a follow up squad hoping to find any survivors. Perhaps the shuttle had ripped wide open, its crew thrown out into the drift-filled valley. Or maybe they were trapped within the wreckage. It mattered little, for either way death awaited as hearts strained to readjust to minus eighty degree temperatures---

Sharp ice needles pelted across Saavik’s exposed skin as she adjusted hood, goggles, and snow-mask. She pulled the auto-sled free of its snowy mantle. At her touch, the small but powerful engine started immediately. It roared into life before quieting to a steady throb, a mechanical heart beat in the sudden silence of the ice plain. The wind blew steadily from the northeast, carrying a numbing cold borne of the barren wastes that surrounded the narrow band of habitable ground. Saavik, aware that she had little time to waste, ignored the danger and pushed on into the whirling snow. 

Before long, the drift became almost a solid wall that reduced her speed to a lurching nightmare. She had no choice but to leave the sled behind and travel the rest of the way on foot. Trapped within the suffocating swirl of snow and ice, wind howling across the desolate tundra into her face, Saavik constantly stopped to search the faint hollows in the absolute whiteness, fearful that she had lost her way in the blinding fall and walked in a circle. 

When she had almost given up hope of finding anything she, at last, struggled up from a little dip in the ground, hip deep in snow, and there on the further crest where the flank of the hill turned into a long level slope toward the west, almost obscured, she found the shuttle. Canted forward on its crushed nose, the entire fuselage coated in a thin shroud of ice, the Federation craft appeared deserted. Although a glimmer of light seemed to come and go eerily behind one of the side ports, Saavik heard no sound, saw no movement. Of signs of life, there was nothing at all.

 

  
Her greatest concern as she waded into the flying drift was that the shuttle might explode. There was still a chance that somewhere in the complicated circuits a spark licked its way through the fuselage, ready to blaze into life. If that happened while anyone remained inside, they would all surely perish.

That information in mind, the storm-wind snatching at her goggles and hood, she stumbled round the side of the tilted craft until she located the hatch. She heaved at it with all the power of her duel Vulcanoid heritage but jammed into the bent frame, the door remained stuck fast. Saavik left it hastily and forced her way through the mounting ice-drift towards the crumpled nose. There she found the frontage torn, the cabin squashed inward by the force of the crash. 

Nerves screaming danger, she hooked her fingers over the jagged metal edges and wriggled through into the tangled snarl of burnt instrumentation -- all that remained of the once pristine circuitry. A hurried glance revealed only the vacant interior. There was no-one there alive or dead, although a dark stain on the control panel suggested that at least one member of the crew, the pilot maybe, had suffered an injury. Cursing softly, Saavik listened to the sobbing wail of the wind outside, the sigh of ice as it brushed past the damaged shuttle. Why had they not waited? What had possessed them to leave their only shelter and venture out into the worst blanket storm she had ever experienced on Hiemal. However, she had little time to waste on reproach. No doubt the Federation crew had done what they thought best, possibly preferring the danger of the storm to being burnt alive in the wreckage. Or being found by the Rihannsu, who did not take prisoners. 

Again, she pushed her way through the twisted debris into the snow and cast about urgently for any sign of recent tracks. There were none, the heavy drift had seen to that. Desperate, with very little hope remaining, Saavik pushed away her mask and cupped her mittened hands about her mouth. She shouted at the full pitch of her straining lungs. The seeking cry of a hunter wailed thinly out into the storm.

“Aeheaoah.” Head up, eyes staring bleakly into the whirling darkness, while the nictitating membrane hazed her sight, Saavik listened for any answering cry. Only the wild, eerily sobbing wind answered her call. She took a few, stumbling steps further from the shuttle and tried again, the treacherous storm whipping the sound away. “Aeheaoah. Aeheaoah----.”

Then, above the rising scream of the storm-wind, there came a faint reply --- the altogether alien, coughing snarl of an animal ---- a sound that made Saavik’s heart lurch and her hand tighten about the white stave of the khaiya she had slung across her shoulder.

“Aehoah ---!” She cried out, feverishly, “aeheeaohya!” 

She pummelled at the deadened flesh of her cheeks, exposed too long to the sub-zero temperatures. When the blood surged, painfully, back into the frozen skin, she pulled on the protective mask and waded through the thickening precipitation, the feral snarling her only guide.

The forlorn, crooning howl came again somewhere up ahead. Saavik rushed forward, almost going over the crumpled edge of a steep escarpment that loomed unexpectedly beneath her feet. Just in time, she managed to check her downward fall and turn aside. A fresh scar at the lip of the crevasse told of a recent slide and below her as she peered over the brink, she saw a dark shape that lay unmoving in the snow. 

Saavik’s head snapped abruptly to the right as the haunting cry of the lhur echoed once again upon the freezing, storm-ridden air. 

“I hear thee, sister,” She murmured, heart drubbing against her lower ribs. “Forgive this trespass, but I come to rescue a friend.”

Another cry quickly followed the first and then for a time, there was only the roar of the wind. Then, something moved, white against white, a ghostly shadow, crouching low like a great dog. But it was no dog; and behind it came two more. Almost in one movement, she took out the oiled gut and strung the khaiya, reaching over her shoulder for one of the grey fledged arrows.

“Ahhhhuuuu!” 

The cry ripped through the chill breath of Hiemal and the lhur’s narrow, serpentine head rose, round, silken ears pricked forward, yellow eyes precisely identifying Saavik’s position. The arrow sped across the intervening space, found its mark unerringly. The massive creature jerked, whirling as it batted at the slender, wooden, shaft buried deep in its throat. The lhur spat at her, snake-like head weaving from side to side, the light gradually fading from its eyes before it finally toppled over into the snow and lay still. 

The second lhur, mate of the first, charged as Saavik fitted a second arrow against the tautened gut of the khaiya string. But, deflected by the sleek, heavy fur, perfectly adapted to the climate, the barb spun away into the murky darkness. The young male, nostrils quivering, gathered on its haunches --- and sprang. Saavik’s third shaft was better directed. Braced like a coiled spring, hands rock steady; she loosed the arrow. The huge creature, caught in mid-leap, fell spitting and snarling almost against her knee. Face dispassionate, Saavik drew her knife and ended the beast’s agony in one quick thrust. Again, there was blood on the snow, dark against white, the only splash of colour in all that pale landscape.

Breath coming in harsh spasms, heart pounding, Saavik realised the battle was over. She crouched in the trampled and bloody snow beside the two dead lhur, shivering with a cold misery she had last known only as a child. Abruptly weary, sick with delayed reaction, she allowed the third animal, no more than a cub, to slink away into the storm and turned her attention to the steep slope of the escarpment. The dark shape, prey of the lhur pack, lay face down as before with snow rapidly piling up against its weather side.

The wind tugged ferociously at Saavik, whirling the thickening snowflakes under her hood, obscuring her vision. She ignored the distraction, cased the long bow, and slipped over the crest of the defile sliding carefully down the steep slope until she knelt beside the motionless shadow at its base. In frantic haste, she turned the limp body over, afraid that she was too late. A low moan briefly reassured her. Though it was hard to see in the murk, she noted the survival gear with relief. While the protective jacket was torn in several places, presumably by the lhur, the facemask and goggles, which concealed the stranger’s features, remained in place. Quickly, she searched for injuries. Her exploring fingers soon discovered the physique of a humanoid, male, unmistakeably adult, the stickiness of blood frozen into clumps above one eye and in his hair. Maybe stunned in the crash, blinded by the heavy, wind-driven snow, the crewman had stumbled right over the cliff --- easy pickings for the lhur. Saavik could not tell if he had suffered any other serious injury --- and there was no time to find out.

Her thoughts raced as the wind boomed and roared around her. The wounded man was tall, and despite her enhanced Vulcan strength, too heavy for her to drag all the way back to where she had left the sled. The weather was closing in fast and the smell of blood, however faint, would act like a magnet drawing from what appeared an empty landscape, a sudden population of hungry predators. The lhur had been there from the first and others would now be on their way across the ice. The kill had long been a way station for the wanderers of the Barrens --- this time would be no different. 

The crewman groaned, shifted feebly, no doubt seeking warmth or comfort, but finding only darkness and numbing cold. Saavik removed her mask, grasped him by the shoulders, shouting above the wind’s banshee wail. “Where are the others?”

He tried to fend her off with an upraised arm but lacked the coordination. She shook him roughly, unable to spare the time for courtesy or gentleness. Without the protective mask, the arctic conditions deadened her lips almost immediately 

“Wake up.” She yelled in Standard, “This is no time to sleep. Do you hear me? Was there anyone else with you in the shuttle?”

She shook him again, harder and he protested weakly, his voice distorted by the mask he wore.

“I --- am ---alone. No-one --- else --- with me” His head rolled back as if the effort to speak had exhausted him.

Saavik spoke with brittle urgency, her tone colder than the ice spicules that whirled about them both, her numb lips slurring the words. “Then we must move, now, before the storm catches us in the open. Get on your feet. I cannot carry you. Or would you rather shame the world that gave you life?”

At the insult, he cried out in denial, a small, lost sound, a raw, and bleeding thing that seemed torn from him, as if to shame his homeworld was unbearable. He broke free of her hold; thrust his body upright and wavered uncertainly to his feet. Saavik stood beside him fumbling her mask into place over mouth and nose, gratefully drawing the enriched air into her burning lungs. She offered a shoulder for him to lean against and saw him hesitate as if reluctant to accept her help.

“Such pride will not get you far.” She told him brusquely, secretly awed by such determination, then allowed her voice to soften. “Come, I have a sled and shelter not too far away. If we help each other, we can reach it before the storm cuts us off.” 

Swaying on legs that would hardly bear his weight, she saw him nod in agreement. Only then, did Saavik encircle his waist and place his arm across her shoulders. Together, stumbling and slipping, they began the long trek back. 

o0o


	3. Night of the Wolf

Chapter 3

 

For the most part the two of them stayed within the protection of the deep crevasse, having to fight every step of the way against the wind that had increased to gale force, whipping snow constantly into their faces. 

The journey was a nightmare for Saavik as she battled the full force of the blizzard while sustaining the weight of her companion. Already fatigued from the outward journey, when she began to cough raggedly, she knew it was only a matter of time before her own strength failed. 

For a humanoid, the crewman seemed exceptionally heavy. He struggled valiantly not to burden her beyond her endurance but as the storm worsened and the temperature dropped, he laboured progressively until finally staggering one last time. He fell abruptly to his knees. Saavik recognised the futility of urging him on and instead, let him drop heavily to the ground where he slumped, unconscious. His stamina had long since given out and only a dogged perseverance had kept him going so far. Yet, they had to reach the sled if they were to survive. She had to go on alone, recover the sled, and return for him.

No more than two hundred yards further on she picked out the amorphous humped shape hidden beneath the cloaking snow. In a stumbling run, hampered by her furs and the deepening drift, she finally reached the vehicle and tugged it clear. Her first action was to change the canister of air on her facemask. Fighting for breath, she gratefully inhaled the oxygen deep into her straining lungs. 

The return journey did not take long. Gnawed by anxiety, Saavik urged the sled as close to the still form of the crewman as she could get. She rolled him over, searched for a pulse, and found it palpitating feebly. With what little strength she still possessed, she reached under his arms and heaved him into the sled. 

The wind lashed her cruelly even through the thick furs as she took hold of the controls and forced the sled into motion. They raced into the darkness, the polished runners of the auto-sled hissing over the snow. Saavik followed the twisting route she had used initially but now, with the storm behind, they made good progress, skirting the hills with the aid of the compass inserted into the vehicle’s dashboard. 

Within a short time, she located the disguised entrance to the cave she had found. Legs trembling, she hauled the crewman off the sled and weaving slightly, dragged him into the dark interior. Fingers numb, shaking with exhaustion, she discarded the fur mittens and insulated gloves she wore and fumbled to light the single lamp. A weak, earthenware glow illuminated the dimness as she eventually levered the crewman onto the rude cot she had cobbled together. Shadows danced eerily as she finally removed the protective mask and gazed down on his uncovered face. 

 

oOo

 

Fatigue had overwhelmed Saavik, and pressed her unresisting into a profound sleep. Yet, even complete exhaustion could not blunt the primal ability she possessed of wakening alert and clear-minded on the instant. 

Tormented by a nightmare of Xon’s sightless eye staring up at her from out of the charred and bloody ruin of half a face, she had startled awake, convinced that he had called out to her.

“I am here, t’hy’la--”

But the sounds of tortured breathing that filled the cave did not belong to Xon. She scrambled up onto stiff knees to look at the man on the bed in perplexed wonder. She had not dreamed him then. It really was Spock lying there. 

He had not moved at all while she had slept and the covers remained where she had placed them pulled up to his chin. His angular features burned with fever, his black hair plastered against his brow with sweat. From where she knelt, she could feel the heat coming off him in waves. He stirred as she watched, moaned deep in his throat, tossing his head from side to side. He murmured something unintelligible, before calling out a name, one she had cause to know, though it had been in a different lifetime. 

For a moment, she continued to watch but she could not ease his pain. Kaiidth. What was, was. He lapsed into silence as she caught up the lamp she had left burning all night in case he woke, shielding it with her body so the weak light did not disturb him further. The blizzard still wailed and jabbered with mournful reproach. Catching up her facemask and storm gear, she clambered up the steep passageway to look outside. 

It was the second day of storm, the first of siege and the soft new snow already lay a metre deep – and still fell. Sky and land merged as the precipitation, driven before the banshee scream of the drift wind, clothed hills, stunted forests, and open tundra beneath a spectral gown of white. Saavik’s footprints and the tracks from the sled were buried without trace. Nothing remained to suggest that she existed at all. It was quite terrifying to realise that if she had lost her way on the previous night, without shelter, both she and Spock would have frozen grotesquely beneath that ghostly fall, with no one to look for either him or her or wonder at their disappearance. Perhaps their safe return was an omen----- 

Ill as he was, she was thankful for Spock’s arrival. She had grown lonely since the deaths of her team – and that was not good in such a desolate place. In recent days, the misty shadows had started to take strange forms, visions from her grief-stricken dreams. She had begun to fall under the spell of the eerily moaning wind. The constant keening had severed her link with external reality. Saavik shivered as she listened to the weird lament. The sound reminded her increasingly of lost souls crying out for solace in their torment. As she retreated down the narrow passageway, she realised that if she had to remain there alone, eventually, it would send her insane.

When she returned, Spock lay quiet, deep within shantip, the Vulcan healing trance. His chest rose and fell in slow exhalations as he bent all his remaining strength on his injuries. Saavik eyed him anxiously, studying him for the faint signs that indicated he might need assistance. But the hawk features she had known since childhood remained oblivious. The time was not yet------ 

oOo

Awareness of identity came to him with the sharpness of remembered pain. For what seemed an eternity he lingered in the past, turned inward, the bright images chasing each other behind his closed eyelids, encapsulated memories bursting like bubbles on the surface of his mind. 

A Human face loomed out of the dark and hung suspended before his fascinated gaze. He regarded it with distant pleasure – Kirk as Spock had last seen him in the shuttle-bay aboard Enterprise. His Captain smiled, a slow, sweet grin, irresistibly devastating, the warmth echoed in his voice. Spock knew the amused tone well. It offered friendship but one without obligation, a commitment that as a Vulcan he could not return. Kirk knew him as a brother as well as a friend. He had earned Spock’s trust.

\----- don’t want you taking any chances. Get the hell out of there--- out of there ---outofthere ---- 

Kirk’s image wavered as if seen under water before slowly receding. Jim! The name died on Spock’s lips as another wave of darkness washed over him – and another face came shimmering out of nowhere.

McCoy. 

The doctor grinned sardonically, his tone acidic, friendship concealed by a cynic’s mask. 

Told you it was a crazy way to spend your vacation. Why couldn’t you wait? Toldyoutoldyoutoldyou--------

The vision faded, McCoy’s voice died away. Spock was back in the shuttle, the Rihannsu interceptor close on his tail as he raced for the hills. Again, the sudden shriek of the alarm rose to a crescendo as the other ship came perilously within range. It fired on him. The open tundra stretched forever, the far hills appeared a thousand miles away. They mocked him with a safety he could not hope to reach. Blue flame seared across the shuttle’s stern. It fell, buffeted by the wind. He fought to regain control, tried to keep the nose section up and so avoid a head-on, possibly fatal crash. Although he realised he was only going through the motions, he struggled on, unwilling to give in, even when his Vulcan upbringing assured him he was acting purely with emotion.

In the dream – as in reality - he lost height. For endless seconds he dropped in slow motion, the line between sky and land dissolved in ghostly mist. Then, abruptly, the ground surged up to meet the snub-nosed craft. Lightning fast, he slammed into the white hillside. The inertial dampeners failed on impact. His shoulder and chest took the brunt of the collision, but he also struck his head a glancing blow. The blood came in a hot stream --------

ENOUGH.

The cry reverberated through his closed mind and the scene shattered into fragments. 

Someone else came to peer down at him. It was a face from his past, grave, and composed, aesthetically elegant, an enigmatic face, but one that he had learned to read as if it were his own.

Saavik. 

She had braided her wealth of dark hair into a single braid. It hung down her back almost to the waist. But her eyes had not changed, pale and proud, they regarded him with dispassionate interest. She raised a finger to his temple and bade him ‘sleep’ and he obeyed.

The darkness within and without ebbed and flowed. From out of the whirling maelstrom, new patterns formed. They glimmered briefly, a candle flame gusting in a breeze. 

The cold had forced him back to consciousness, that and the muted howl of the drift wind. He climbed slowly from out of the black void that held him, shaken to find that he was still alive. He lay on the floor of the shuttle where he had collapsed, the frozen air burning his throat and lungs as he pulled in one painful, shallow breath after another. After a time he had struggled to open his eyes. One seemed frozen shut by caked blood but the lids of the other gradually peeled apart. Snow whirled about his head and shoulders. Dazed, he stared at the tumbling flakes for what seemed a very long time lacking the energy to move.

 

Saavik’s face again. She lifted his head, forced him to swallow some fiery potion that scorched his throat and stomach with the elixir of life.

“Drink,” she murmured, voice soft and compelling. “Drink and sleep.”

 

The shuttle had stopped on a low, level slope, canted forward on its nose. When he stirred, the cabin smelled of burning circuits and smouldering plastic. A small fire must have started after the crash and burned itself out. Even semi-conscious he recognised the danger of remaining where he was. Logic dictated that he had to leave the shuttle. Yet, like someone who had struggled up from a very deep, very dark tunnel, he was so weak that he could only remain where he had fallen. Even the cold that already crept through his uniform and steadily encroached on the stored warmth of his body lacked the capacity to force him into movement. But, when eventually the ice crystals formed gently on the walls and spread slowly but inexorably towards him, he knew that if he did not soon find the strength to get on his feet he would most certainly die.

Once upright, he lurched unsteadily towards the storage locker in the rear. With numbed fingers, teeth chattering, he managed to wrench open the compartment door and fumble out the insulated boots, coverall, parka and face-mask that hung there. The clothing had been meant to protect him only for the transfer trip between the shuttle and Base entrance but it was well made and would serve to keep him warm in the severe conditions on Hiemal.

It seemed to take a long while to dress but once accomplished, heat stole through him in a most pleasant way. He weaved an erratic path towards the forward bulkhead once more but the door had jammed fast and he found neither the strength nor the inclination to move it. With his senses swimming disagreeably, he recalled the broken panel at the nose and headed towards it. He stumbled more than once, reopening his head wound but doggedly continued. Finally, he managed to squeeze through feet first and drop into the snow that had drifted up against the shuttle’s side. It was only then, as he wavered in the lee of the craft that he realised there was nowhere left for him to go. 

Out in the open the force of the wind hit him like a blow. In the last hours, he had grown so used to the background roar that he had almost forgotten its existence. The squall pushed him onto his knees and it took all his strength and several tries to regain his feet and totter away from the downed shuttle. His first priority was a sheltered place out of the wind. The urge to return to the Columbus threatened his resolve but he could not discount the possibility of another fire. Only his indomitable will kept him from giving in to the awesome cold, another enemy to be battled. It cut through the insulated clothing he wore, slowed his reactions, numbed his flesh-------

 

With his eyes still closed, Spock stirred beneath the pale lhur hide that covered him. He groaned with remembered despair, called out in anguish. “Jim.” 

\--- don’t want you taking any chances---get the hell out---

 

The high ground changed as he struggled on. It became more broken and treacherous. Steep mountain ridges increasingly barred his way, bottomless chasms, black pits, some only a few metres wide, others stretching for kilometres, materialized at his feet. Outcroppings of Hiemal’s oldest rocks; they were the last shrug of a rapidly cooling planet. It was an impressive place, secretive and haunting, but it was far from empty. Hungry, feral eyes watched from out of the shadowless reaches.

Battered by the wind, wandering in a frozen, confused daze Spock was only half aware of his surroundings. Yet, when something stirred in the scudding misty whiteness, instinct abruptly took over. 

He glimpsed a huge silvery white animal, its eyes, and nose mere dark slits in a snowy fur mask, the small pricked ears flattened closely against a narrow, wolfish skull. Belly down, it came for him at a strange, loping run. 

With sudden intuition, Spock dived to one side as the beast lunged for his throat. Denied an easy kill, prevented from reaching its target, the slashing jaws tore at his chest, the force of the attack, pushing him to the ground. Pinned under the brute, Spock laboured to keep it from the vulnerable flesh beneath his chin but though his Vulcan strength was legendary, greater than that of a Human, his shoulder had already sustained damage in the crash. Weak from the cold, injured as he was, the creature held the advantage. It rolled him repeatedly over and over in the snow, while the powerful jaws ripped at his insulated parka, tearing both cloth and flesh apart.

 

Spock ensnared by nightmare fought towards consciousness. Saavik watched as before waiting for the right time to intervene-------

 

Pain slashed across his torn muscles as the beast forced him down a small slope to the edge of a crevasse. For an eternal moment the sinuous head swam before his eyes, the creature’s meat-foul breath hot upon his throat. He knew that he stared death in the face. Defiance of that fate gave him one final burst of strength. Somehow, he kicked free of the animal, rolled for the edge of the escarpment and fell into blinding whiteness – the coughing snarl of the lhur ringing in his ears. 

The banked snow helped to break his fall. Stunned, his eyes flickered open, the howl of the wolfen in his ears, a keening threnody that rivalled the moan of the wind in the stark crags ranged above him. And almost in answer to the beast’s melancholy complaint, another cry echoed through the whirling darkness. Confused, Spock listened to the remote call, distantly aware that the creature would eventually find a way down to him, that he was still vulnerable to attack. Yet, worn out from the struggle with the beast, he could no longer summon the energy to move. Out of the wind at last, the cold crept steadily through his shredded clothing. The pain faded slowly and a warm drowsiness drove out the chill of the blizzard. 

o0o


End file.
